Taking the day off

I called in sick to work today, just like I did yesterday. It is not so much that I am sick, just that I am really, really tired. And I've had a headache for over a week, one just that doesn't seem to go away, but sometimes is just sort of there, not really bothering me but telling me it can turn into a migraine at any second and knock me for six. Which is exactly what it did last Thursday while I was at work. And there was my first sick day at my new job. And here I am on number 3. Not very good, I know, but I just couldn't be arsed.

So I called in this morning and I was told that as this was day 2, I needed a sick note. So I went to the medi centre over the road and after waiting for an hour (and reading an article on blogging of all things) I got into the doctor. This is not my regular doctor, just the one I go to when I am too when I don't have time to wait for an appointment to see my family doctor or when I just couldn't be bothered to see him as he's a bit of a quack. More on him later. I told her what was going on and that I needed a note and she said "Emma, what are you doing? You can't work 2 jobs with a baby!" Well, the sad reality is that I have to work. And though I would prefer just the job at the hospital, I can't feed and clothe a family on shifts I may not get. Which is why I got a part time job, where I am working full time hours and turning down shifts at the hospital, which I have said before pays way more money. It has been determined that I am just way to stressed, as shown by my rather short fuse leading to my rather bad temper.

One day things will get better, this I know.

A story about my family doctor... A few years ago, well 5 or 6 now, my doctor, a very nice doctor, had a baby. When she returned to work she decided to move her practice to the north side and work only 2 days a week. As I live in the west end and had young children who didn't find it convenient to get sick on only Tuesdays or Thursdays, I decided it would be best to go to a new doctor. Her office had sent our files to a clinic not too far away with a choice of 2 doctors. I called my mum and asked if she knew of either of them. Since she works in a hospital, she was able to look them up. I found out that one was Scottish and the other was Irish, both mid-middle aged. Who do you think I chose? Go on, guess. Of course, if you have glanced at my profile you know that I chose the Irish one.

And that was probably not the smartest thing I have ever done. For let me just say that this man, a somewhat nice fella from Galway, is a fucking eejit. No, no, not just an eejit, he is perhaps the most inept doctor ever put on the face of the earth. Maybe that's pushing it, but let me just say he does not represent UCD well.

I have been seeing him for 5 or so years and he does not yet know who I am. My gynecologist who I see much less then him knows me by name when she sees me when I am working at the hospital. My dentist, who I see even more rarely, said "Hello Emma" to me at Wal- Mart. They both know all about my children, even when they are not with me. (And believe me, I wouldn't take my children with me for a pap smear.) But this man, who treats not only me, but also my children, forgets I have them unless he is looking directly at my chart. When I take one of the children to see him, he doesn't know my name, he just calls me 'mum'. What's the deal with that? Shouldn't you learn a bit about your patients? Take a quick glance at their chart before going into the room? His people skills are less than pleasing. He has ignored my requests to look into medication for Liam's ADD. (I didn't actually want to put him on medication, but I wanted the option to be discussed.) When Saoirse was 2 months or so old she developed a hacking cough. When I took her to see him, he told me that fair headed babies often have bad chests. My aunt, a nurse, said she had never heard anything so foolish in her life.

So he is most definitely not the brightest man going. I should change doctors, but frankly, it is all such a hassle.